Deja Vu
by Archadian
Summary: Larsa is all grown up...and a complete psycho just like his family. Seven years post-game. Chapter 4 rewritten!
1. The Dagger and its Mystery

Déjà vu

714 Old Valendian

Archades

Seven years after the fall of Vayne, Ivalice has entered a new golden age, not seen since the days of the Dynast-King…or so it seems.

Dalmasca has her peace, Rozarria has her peace, while in Archadia, peace is but an illusion. Its emperor, twenty-year-old Larsa Solidor, has grown into the spitting image of his late brother, without the disturbing mannerisms. He traded the fluffy white tunic and short pants for an outfit of black and silver armor, similar in style to Vayne's. His once short, curly hair has grown over his shoulders and to the middle of his back. His boyish features have given way to those of a young man. Just as the men of the House of Solidor, Larsa is well over six feet.

At first, in Archadia, all seems well, but all too soon Emperor Larsa begins to see strange visions. He sees his late brother walking the halls of the Imperial Palace. Since no one else sees the apparition, he simply passes it off as strain from governing his growing nation.

That aside, Larsa is engaged to a young woman, a Rozarrian by the name of Rachel Margrace, the eighteen-year-old baby sister of Al-Cid Margrace, the Ruler of Rozarria.

It is an unusually warm spring day, and Larsa is learning to play chess with his fiancée. The two can't stop smiling at each other as they both goof off with the crystal chess pieces. The sunshine brilliantly makes the chess pieces sparkle along with Rachel's brown eyes. The large marble patio they are on overlooks a beloved rose garden that has been in the Solidor family for generations. The fountains and birdbaths are their usual crystal clear; the hedge mazes are perfectly manicured, and beyond that stands Larsa's refuge, an eight hundred year old tree, an oak, with a thirty foot swing dangling from a very strong branch. It faces Misty Lake, where he and Rachel shared their first real kiss.

"Larse, it's your move."

"Um…" He picks up a pawn and moves it across the board. "Checkmate?"

Rachel sighs and then smiles. "Not this time, hon." She moves her knight and slides it to Larsa's end of the board.

"This is why I never bother to play chess," Larsa half-smiles. She smiles back.

He gets up from his seat and stretches. "I'd better get back inside. I've got work to do."

Rachel's voice is filled with disappointment. "Oh, okay." She was looking forward to spending the entire day with him, and now she has to spend the day alone. She looks down at her feet and fumbles with her hands. Larsa knows she's dissatisfied with his constant working. He walks towards her and places his large hands over hers.

"Rach," he starts in a whisper. "How can I make it up to you?"

She slowly lifts her head; her brown eyes meet with his gray eyes.

"Hold me. All night. That's all." She gives him a peck on his full lips. Two male servants hold open the double doors, letting Rachel inside. Larsa and another servant follow close behind.

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Later that night, Larsa and Rachel share each other in the heat of passion. Their bodies, tangled in a layer of silk sheets, move in rhythm of each other. Sweat beads form on Larsa's forehead and falls down his temples, he grabs the sheets and thrusts deeper into his wife to be. She slides her hands onto his muscular back, feeling his sweat, feeling his luxurious skin. Her lips part, a small moan escapes. Rachel runs her fingers through his long, raven black hair, enjoying the man she loves.

A knock on the door spoils the mood.

"Can it wait?" Rachel asks breathlessly.

Larsa groans and buries his face in a pillow. "Of all nights, why this one?"

"Better not keep them waiting." She places her hands on his face and gives him a very long kiss. The light knocks on his bedroom door turn into annoying pounding. Larsa gets out of bed and puts on a pair of pajama pants. He then rushes to the door.

Rachel couldn't hear the conversation between Larsa and whom she assumed is Basch on the other side of the door. She curls under the blankets when Larsa closes the door.

"What's going on?"

Larsa hurriedly puts on a satin robe, his bare, muscular chest exposed.

"Something happened."

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later. Stay in here and lock the door." He slips on his house shoes and rushes out of the bedroom. Doing as she's told, Rachel wraps a sheet around her nude body and locks the door.

Downstairs, two guards and Basch detained the two intruders. Both men are in cuffs. Larsa, accompanied by a guard and a male servant, are in shock.

"What's the meaning of this?" Larsa asked strictly.

"We caught these men trying to steal," a guard explained. "We seized these items from them."

On a table were a crystal figurine, a Faberge egg, and Larsa's most prized possession, Vayne's ruby dagger. He felt a surge of anger tremor down his spine. His face turned red, he felt hot.

"Thieves! How could you intrude my home and attempt to steal from me?!"

"We---we were just fooling around, your Highness---" the first thief tried to explain, but he kept stumbling over his words.

"Fooling around? You're fools for doing this."

The two thieves clammed up, quiet and fearful of their leader. They instantly regret burglarizing the Imperial Palace. Larsa glared at them with harsh gray eyes full of anger.

"I don't tolerate a liar," he said dryly. "I won't tolerate a thief. Consider yourselves lucky I will not send the both of you to Nalbina Dungeons. You're free to go."

The guards escort the two men out of the palace.

"At least they didn't kill you," said Basch.

"Yeah. They would have been here longer. Try all night, for starters."

"I'm going back to bed. How about you?"

"I won't be able to fall asleep again, " says Larsa. "I think I'll remain awake. Goodnight, Basch."

"Goodnight, Larsa." Basch starts the long walk upstairs to his room.

Larsa stares at the ruby dagger on the table. Taking it out of its sheath, he examines it, marveling at its cleanness. He's watched Vayne use the dagger for numerous things, especially sharpening and carving strange looking wooden javelins with intricate designs on its sides. Larsa wondered if Vayne has ever used it on his enemies, mainly traitors such as Lamont and Revenal, or thieves stupid enough to attempt to burglarize their palace.

There is a special something about that dagger. Maybe it was enchanted with some type of spell to attract the person near it; maybe it was all in his head. Larsa picks up the dagger and takes it out of its sheath. It is a beautifully designed dagger, with its snake-like blade and its genuine ruby handle. It almost looked as if it is a religious dagger of some sort. Larsa wondered if Vayne used it for a secret ritual, mumbling incantations and slitting open a snake for its blood to drizzle on an inverted pentagram carved into the cellar floor. He envisioned his brother in the pitch dark of the cellar, surrounded by five black taper candles, his eyes closed, focusing on the evil energies in the room with him. Vayne has always pushed the envelope with using the Dark Arts to his advantage, and he was very good at it.

He conceals the dagger in the sleeve of his robe and goes back upstairs.

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Rachel has dozed off while waiting for Larsa to come back to the bedroom. The sound of the door opening wakes her up.

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing much," Larsa says upon locking the bedroom door. "Just some thieves."

She sits upright. "We're they caught?"

"Yeah. I had Basch let them go."

"Larsa, come back to bed. You look sleepy."

He coolly walks towards their bed and sits beside Rachel. He holds her by the waist with one arm while he caresses her with his other hand.

Larsa takes the very sharp dagger from out of his robe's sleeve and plunges the blade into her chest. Her eyes open wide, blood spills from the sides of her mouth. Larsa's eyes are devoid of emotion as he takes the blade out from her chest and plunges it into her stomach, ripping it open as if he were gutting a fish.

Rachel doesn't see Larsa, instead, his facial features are hardened, and his full lips are in a cold, hard frown.

"I can love you, my sweet, but in a very different way."

Larsa's daydream is instantly broken with Rachel calling his name.

"Larsa? Are you okay?"

"Um…yeah, I'm fine." He forgets all about the dagger hidden in his sleeve. "I just need a drink of water." Larsa then goes to the bathroom.

While in the bathroom Larsa takes out the dagger and stares at it. Did he really kill Rachel? Was it all because of the hidden danger this particular dagger has? He feels a slight breeze on his neck. Seeing a shadow out of the corner of his eye, he turns around to see what it is. Seeing nothing, he goes back to filling up his rinse cup with water. Whatever this 'thing' is, it obviously wants to annoy him.

When Larsa takes a sip of his water, he feels a hand rest on his shoulder. Terrified, he nearly chokes on his water, slips on a small puddle made from a shower earlier, falls, and hits his head on the sink, knocking him out cold. A small trickle of blood runs down his forehead.

Rachel still waits for him to come out of the bathroom. Going to see what is taking him so long, she wraps herself with a bath towel and goes to the bathroom door.

"Larse? Are you finished? I'm waiting for you to come and finish me," she says seductively. Getting no response, she knocks on the door again. "Honey? What are you doing in there?"

Finding the door unlocked, she opens it to find her fiancé knocked unconscious in the middle of the bathroom floor.

A/N: I don't know how to play chess, so hush up! ;-) I know it seems a little boring at first, but there will be more to come!


	2. Delusion

"I love you," he said. "And I will prove my love to you."

She looks on in wonder at her husband. She feels uneasy about this.

"Vayne, are you sure you want to do this?"

He looks down at the floor. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Of course I do," she says. The red haired woman stares at Vayne with gloomy eyes. She wants to die along with him, but she is having second thoughts. Vayne kneels and takes his wife's hands into his own. "I will try to make this as quick and painless as I possibly can."

Young Larsa listens from outside the guest room door. It is slightly open, but he can see and hear what is going on. He knows what his brother is going to do to avoid capture and imminent death by the Resistance.

"Do what you must, my love."

Vayne opens a nearby dresser drawer and takes out a ruby dagger. He cradles the red haired woman in his arms and traces the outline of her face with the tip of the dagger. He then positions it over her chest, ready to stab her in the heart.

"Forgive me."

Larsa opens the door to try and stop Vayne.

"Wake up, Larsa!" Vayne yells.

"What?" he looks at Vayne with quizzical eyes.

"Shhh, he's waking up—"

Larsa's eyes struggle to focus on the penlight shining in them. His pupils respond to the light.

"Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine, my lady," a nurse says. "His Majesty will have a little bump on his forehead, he will be fine nonetheless."

"Can someone tell me the time?"

"It is morning," says Basch.

Larsa tries to quickly sit up, but the pain makes him lie back down.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"You've been out of it for quite some time," Rachel explains. "You need to rest."

"I don't need to rest."

"Sir, if you don't rest, your injury may become worse," the nurse explains.

Larsa attempts to keep his calm, but the constant coddling is getting to him.

"I don't need to rest! It's just a bloody lump on my forehead for the Gods' sake!" He gets up off of the couch and stands up. "I do not need to be overprotected like some clumsy child!" Larsa storms out of the living room and goes upstairs.

That attitude of his reminded Basch of his twin and Vayne and any other Solidor he has met in the past. Gramis had that same self-important attitude, that holier-than-thou air about him. While Larsa was a child he felt bad for him because he is of that bloodline. Basch hoped Larsa would not become exactly like his brothers and father.

Rachel looks at Basch. "Shall I go talk to him?"

"No, my lady. Leave him be."

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While Larsa is in the shower, he thought about his future with Rachel. She is very beautiful, and sweet, and everything he has ever wanted in a woman, yet she is Rozarrian. Did his family not hate Rozarria? Did his brother not teach him about 'the ethics that can bring ruin'? Ethics such as kindness that yield nothing. Nothing brings ruin to man and country.

'Kindness is useless, brutality is necessary for the strong to survive.' That is what Vayne told Larsa when he was four years old.

Though he will not admit it, he misses his brother. He misses the days he would give him a piggy back ride through the rose garden, running fast, his armored boots clicking on the pavement. Larsa missed how Vayne would roughhouse with the toddler, staying up with him until he got tired. Vayne would read his toddler brother a bedtime story and give him a peck on his forehead when he fell asleep.

Then, he discovered nethicite. Vayne paid more attention to nethicite than spending time with Larsa.

As the hot water ran over his head and body, Larsa pushes the painful memories of losing his brother to insanity and focused on the day ahead.

He wishes he could see his brother just one more time.

Larsa gets out of the shower and wraps his lower half with a towel. Wiping the condensation off of the mirror, he stares at himself for a while. He touches the red crystal he wears on a thin nylon rope which hung from his neck. He found the crystal in the Dalmasca Estersand when he was fourteen. He hasn't taken it off since.

He stares at himself for a quite a while. Larsa really did look a lot like Vayne, perhaps too much. He runs his hands through his hair, positioning it over his left eye. Grinning, maybe he could get away with this new style.

A knock on the bathroom door, followed by a man's voice took Larsa out of his daydream.

"Sir? Your attire is ready."

Larsa smirks and leaves the bathroom.

Fully dressed in his outfit of black and silver armor, Larsa went on to do his usual work---ruling Archadia---which was exhausting. Standing on the huge marble patio, Archades looked so vast from his angle. He could see miles and miles of the Imperial Capital; it seemed Archades had no end.

He feels a pair of hands slide onto his waist.

"Hi."

Larsa places his gloved hands onto hers. Rachel snuggles her head onto his back.

"Comfortable?"

"Yes I am."

He turns around to look at her. With his hand around her waist he brings her closer to himself, literally pressing their bodies tightly together. Larsa then places his hands on her face and gives her a little peck on her forehead. Rachel places her hands on his wrists. He sensed something is bothering her. He lifts up her head so their eyes may meet.

"What's wrong?"

She smiles and remains quiet.

"What's really the matter?"

"I'm nervous about our wedding."

"Our wedding isn't for another five months. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"No, that's not it. I'm nervous because…I'll be a wife soon. I don't know the first thing about being a wife."

Larsa smiles. "That's what you're nervous about?"

"Yes. And don't laugh."

"Don't worry, I'll try not to."

Just when they are about to kiss, a servant interrupts them.

"My lady, your wedding attire is here."

"Thank you, Mai." Rachel whispers in Larsa's ear: "I'll see you later." She winks and then leaves with the servant.

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Rachel stands in front of the hexagonal mirror, admiring her sparkling white wedding gown in every angle. The bright lights made the diamond encrusted gown shimmer even more. She has no idea that in just a few moments, her impression of a Solidor will change forever.

"You look...okay, I guess," says Basch. He has always saw Rachel in elegant gowns all the time, but her wedding dress really brought out the lady in her. She whirls around on the tips of her toes.

"So, what do you think, Basch?"

Basch felt a tad bit uncomfortable with that question. He scratches the back of his head.

"Um…you look…nice."

"Nice?" Smiling, she hops off of the pedestal. "Is that all, Gabranth?" Rachel throws her arms around his neck.

Basch found himself staring into Rachel's dark brown eyes. He has admired her for quite some time, but not in this way. The sound of Larsa walking in startles the both of them. The look on Rachel's face implied guilt on her part.

"You look very beautiful, love," Larsa says darkly. "I'm sure Judge Gabranth feels the same, do you not?"

Basch felt a lump form in his throat. Speechless, he rubs the back of his neck. Feeling pressed for words, he makes up an excuse.

"Yes. Very beautiful, my lady," he says while nodding his head 'yes.' Larsa gives him a very foul look, making Basch leave the room in a hurry.

"Mai, would you kindly leave? On your way out, will you lock the door?"

"Yes sir." Mai leaves and locks the door. Focusing his attention on Rachel, irately, he says:

"What was that foolishness between yourself and the Judge?"

Shocked, Rachel tries to explain herself. "Nothing, I assure you."

"Nothing? Holding him the way you were was considered nothing?"

Larsa grabs her hair, purposely tightening his grip. Rachel squeaks in terror.

"Larsa…what are you doing?!"

"What does it look like!? I'm teaching you a minor lesson for you to learn in the future." He brings her face closer to his. "If you are to marry me you will not make an attempt to flirt with the Judge. Do I make myself clear?"

'Yes," Rachel says tearfully.

"You will suffer the consequences." Larsa lets go of her hair. "Strip."

"What?"

"Strip. Now."

Rachel shakily takes off her wedding gown, letting it plop to the floor.

"Turn around and take off your undergarments."

She hesitantly does what she is told. Tears fall down her face; she is shaking with fear.

"Bend over and face the wall."

"Larsa…please---"

He slaps her. "I said bend over."

Rachel shakily does what she is told. Taking off his gloves, and with darkness in his voice, he tells Rachel the Solidor form of punishment.

"In my family, if a wife flirted with another man, especially a Judge, she will be punished like an impudent child."

With that, Larsa slaps her across the buttocks with his bare hand. He is heavy handed, which made the pain even worse. She cries out in agony.

"Stop crying! The more you weep the more it will hurt."

He slaps her across the ass once again, this time a little harder. Each slap across her ass made her feel less of a human, less of a woman.

"This is for flirting."

Another slap.

"This is for your poor behavior."

Another slap.

"Please…stop!"

He grabs her once more and shoves her into the wall. Larsa finds a pressure point in her neck and pinches it with his forefinger and thumb. The pain alone was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

"Look at me, Rachel."

She struggles to look up at Larsa.

"Fucking look at me!"

Rachel felt as if she were in another world. This is not the Larsa she met a year ago; instead, her fiancé is showing traits of his twisted family. Her sight blurred with salty tears, she found it hard to look up at him. Becoming impatient, Larsa pinches her face and forces her to look at him.

"Listen carefully," he starts darkly. "If I ever find you hugging, or even talking to Gabranth, prepare to be punished like the child you are. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Swallowing hard, Rachel answers him. "Yes…"

Twisting his full lips into a parody of a smile, Larsa releases her. Rachel falls to the floor nude, scared, and ashamed. Before Larsa leaves, he adds one more feature to his harsh discipline.

"Oh, there is one more thing, my dear."

He starts to undress in front of Rachel. Though she has seen him nude many times, she knew what entailed. Completely nude, Larsa grabs her waist and positions her in a way her body is at a weird angle. With her beautiful face in the mirror, she sees Larsa position himself behind her. His manhood felt as cold as ice and as hard as a steel blade. Her body begged for the pain to come to an end, but it did not. Rachel has been intimate with Larsa on many occasions, but this time he was not gentle in the slightest way.

Staring at the wedding gown, which is in a pile of diamonds and silk on the white carpeting, she found herself mourning the death of enchanted love.

This was only the beginning.


	3. Transformation

A/N: This is what happens when I listen to R&B half the night ;-)

It has been one month since the incident. Rachel tried to keep her distance from Larsa, but she seems to have a small problem with that: she can't stay away from him to save her life.

Rachel can't stay away from Larsa for five seconds. She is always on his heels, following him everywhere he goes. Be it a very important person's black tie wedding, or even a black tie dinner party, they are always together, in their dazzling attire, smiling all the while. In everyone's eyes, Larsa and Rachel are the perfect couple, the Envy of Archadia, as one might say.

All of the smiling in the world won't mask Rachel's pain. Behind the incredible smile lies an unhappy woman in denial. As far as Larsa goes, that conceited, egotistic, power-greedy trait is starting to show a hell of a lot more with each passing day. He has made a lot of people angry with him for his snide remarks and total disregard of others' feelings, earning him the title of asshole.

While at home, Larsa is slowly but surely starting to act more like Vayne and less of himself. An unfortunate chef was about to experience the wrath of an angry Solidor.

That night, Rachel and Larsa sat at a large dinner table. A large chandelier shone brightly in the elegant dining room. Rachel, dressed in her finest dinner attire, smiled brightly at her fiancé. Larsa didn't have a smile on his face; instead a frown spoiled his handsome features. He is not in a very smiley mood this evening.

"Larse, what is the matter?"

"Nothing," he replied bitterly. "Nothing is the matter."

Rachel backs off, fearful of pushing the issue. She continues fiddling with her cloth napkin. Larsa taps his fingers on the cherrywood table, waiting for the servants to bring their evening meal.

Just when Larsa is about to say something mean to the maid arranging flowers on the table, two butlers stroll into the dining room with platters on carts. One butler places a plate in front of Larsa, the other places another plate in front of Rachel.

"Dinner is served," a butler said cheerfully. They both remove the silver covers off of the fine china plates. Rachel starts to eat her shrimp scampi. Larsa is about to eat when he sees what is on his plate. He gestures to the butler in a come here fashion. He starts with his teeth clenched.

"Roland, were you informed about my allergy?"

He shakes his head. "Yes, I was, your Highness."

Larsa raises his voice. "THEN WHY IS THERE SHRIMP ON MY PLATE?!" His shouting startles Rachel and every person in the dining room. They all stop what they are doing.

"You all very well know I cannot have shellfish!!" He slams his fists on the table once, rattling flatware, crystal goblets, and anything breakable. He then quickly stands up, causing the chair to fall backwards.

"Bring that bungling ass Antoine here this instant! Be quick!"

A butler hastily runs out of the dining room to the kitchen. In a flash the chef is brought into the dining room where an angry Larsa is.

"You wanted to see me, your Highness?"

Larsa points to the plate of shrimp scampi. "Were you aware of my allergic reaction to seafood?"

"I—I was not aware, sir."

He gets into the chef's face. The elderly chef trembles with fear, scared of what may happen next.

"I believe not a word." With that, Larsa throws the plate of shrimp in the chef's face. He points to Yvonne, the maid who was arranging flowers. "You! Take my fiancée to her chambers! Make haste!"

"Let us leave, my Lady. I fear this may worsen." Rachel leaves with Yvonne.

Larsa, furious about the shrimp, still stands at the head of the table. Roland stares at him with fearful eyes.

"Don't just stand there like fools! Clean up this mess!" He snatches off the tablecloth; every piece of china and crystal fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces. Flatware and flowers littered the floor. Larsa angrily shoves open the double doors, furiously walking out of the dining room and down the hall.

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Meanwhile, Rachel is getting ready for bed. Her long brown highlighted hair is pinned up in a tousled bun. Rachel's favorite nightdress, red, short, and barely fitting her, showed off her long legs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she paints her well-pedicured toenails. The sound of Larsa opening and closing the door makes Rachel look up. Saying nothing, she continues to paint her toenails as a valet helps Larsa undress in a separate room.

After a few minutes of taking off the heavy armor, Larsa is dressed in his bedclothes, a cream-colored robe and pants ensemble, with his initials embroidered into the breast of the robe. He lazily flops onto a chair.

"You can leave," he says, gesturing to him in a 'go away' wave of the hand. The valet bows and leaves, the sound of his footfalls follows the door opening and closing.

Larsa gets up from his seat and sits behind Rachel. He starts to massage her shoulders, making Rachel stop painting her toenails. She puts the bottle of nail polish onto the nightstand. She closes her eyes and smiles. His strong hands felt excellent on her skin, loosening the knots in her muscles.

"I apologize for startling you earlier this evening."

"I understood why you were angry," she says.

He takes off his robe and tosses it onto the floor. He starts to kiss Rachel's neck, continuing the massage.

"I hope you can forgive me in the near future, for what I have done to you." He turns out the light on the nightstand.

Rachel tried to forget the rape last month. It was pointless and very degrading. She found it very hard to forgive Larsa, but between the kisses on her neck and the feel of his hands on her skin, she is quick to forgive and forget at once.

"Of course I will forgive you."

Still kissing her strawberry scented neck, Larsa slides his hands down her shoulders, taking the spaghetti straps of her nightdress with them, exposing her breasts. Cupping a breast in his hand and sliding his arm around her slender waist, he gently pulls her closer to his muscular body, fervently kissing her neck, running his tongue from her collarbone to her ear.

Rachel turns around and kisses him with passion. Larsa ardently kisses her back, tongue and all. He lays her onto the bed, kissing his way down her neck, between her breasts and her stomach, all the way down to her red, lacy underwear. Larsa slides his thumbs under the straps of her panties, sliding them off of her lower body, leaving her nude. Larsa looks at her and lifts her leg, holding it by the ankle, slowly licking the sole of her foot, tracing the deep arc of her foot with the tip of his tongue. To Rachel, Larsa looked very sexy in the silver moonlight, his raven-black hair covered his left eye, his muscular definition silhouetted against the dark room. He lets her leg flop lazily onto the bed. Larsa slides off his pajama pants, letting them fall around his legs. He kicks them aside and slowly climbs on top of Rachel. Larsa easily inserts his manhood inside of her; he slides his hands onto the sheets, grabbing them with each thrust.

His strong thrusts make Rachel moan and dig her nails into his back. They change position. This time, Rachel is on top. She slides her hands on Larsa's chest, slowly riding him, her blonde streaked hair falls into her girlish face. Her eyes are closed, enjoying the pleasure of herself being on top. Larsa places his large hands around her petite waist and pulls her closer, thrusting deeper inside her, making her moan a little louder.

Approaching climax, Rachel picks up speed. She digs her nails into his chest and throws her head back, her long hair cascades down her back. His full lips are in a pout; sweat glistens on the both of them.

"Don't…stop," moans Rachel.

"I won't…" Larsa says breathlessly.

Rachel breathed heavily. The temperature in the room felt hotter than usual. She looks directly at Larsa, her brown eyes lock onto his gray eyes. Her dark eyes have the look of passion in them, eerily hypnotizing in a way. Almost as if someone cut them out of her head---

"Aah!"

That instantly took Larsa out of his daydream. Gods she felt wonderful on top of him. The way she grinds her lower body onto his, the feel of her soft hands on his chest, the sound of her heavy breathing, the swell of her breasts in his hands, her pouty lips, her sensual moans. Rachel is truly a beautiful woman: nice girl in the daytime, seductive vixen at night. They both can feel themselves coming closer to an orgasm.

Rachel receives Larsa's seed and collapses on top of him, breathing heavily. Larsa gently rubs her back until she fell asleep. Listening to her rhythmic breathing, he remained awake, staring at the strange shadows on the walls created by branches of trees and ivy.

Larsa thought he saw someone standing in the corner of the room, smiling at him, eyes glowing an eerie golden-green.

He writes it off as his overactive imagination, and nods off to sleep.

The figure in the corner floats to the sleeping Larsa and Rachel, and looks at them for a moment. A white-gloved hand gently brushes Larsa's hair out of his eyes, and then fades into the night.

It wasn't his imagination after all.

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Sunshine peeked through the blinds, creating lines on Rachel's face.

"Rise and shine, my Lady! We've got big plans today!" Mai said happily while opening the blinds, letting in all of that radiant sunshine. Rachel pulls the comforter over her nude body and sits up.

"Where's Larsa?" she sleepily asks.

"He's downstairs with Gabranth," she says brightly.

Rachel felt a harsh, cold chill run down her spine, making her shudder quickly.

"Why did you shudder, my Lady?"

"Oh! Um…because it's still a little chilly in here," she lied. "Larsa kept the window opened half the night---"

Mai knows Rachel is lying. "It wasn't opened when I came in here, my Lady." Sensing something isn't right; Mai looks at Rachel's body language. "Rachel, is there something wrong?"

She starts slowly. "I saw a side of Larsa I have never seen before," she explains. "The way he reacted to shrimp on his plate, how he gets violently enraged when someone insults his bloodline…when he raped me in the bridal room. I fear him; yet, I can't stay away from him. I'm drawn to him. What's wrong with me?"

Mai sits on the edge of the bed. "I haven't the slightest idea, my Lady. I mean he is the man you're going to marry in a few months. Maybe it's love. I haven't a clue. Now let's get you dressed."

Grabbing a short pink bathrobe off of the bathroom door hook, she wraps it around Rachel's body. "It will be fine, I promise."

"I sure hope so," she says while putting on the bathrobe. Before going into the bathroom to take a shower, Rachel remembers Mai saying something about plans. "Didn't you say something about plans, Mai?"

"Plans?"

"Yes. You said something about plans a few minutes ago."

"Oh! Lord Larsa will be throwing a party in the Butterfly Room tonight. I heard it's going to be a 'big deal', if you get what I mean."

Rachel raises one eyebrow and says playfully: "Wealthy pigs and bigwigs. Typical guests." She goes into the bathroom and locks the door.

"I'll be here if you need anything!"

------------------------------------------

Larsa sat at the drawing room's desk, examining the dagger as he talked to Basch.

"So, Gabranth, will you be joining me at my social gathering tonight?"

"No, my Lord. Not this time."

"And may I ask why?"

"I'm not in a partying mood," Basch said crankily.

Larsa looks up at him. He knew what that meant. "A companion is not required, Gabranth," he says upon getting out of his seat. "Yourself will be enough, I'm sure."

He scoffs. "I'd better be off. See you this evening, my Lord."

"The same to you, Gabranth."

As Basch walks out into the living room, he bumps into Rachel.

"Good morning, my Lady."

"As well, Gabranth," she says in her normal cheery voice. "How are you?"

He smiles, showing off a picture perfect smile. "The same as usual."

"Um…sorry about bumping into you."

"It's fine, really. Don't worry about it."

Rachel shifts her weight to one foot. She feels nervous about asking Basch a certain question.

"May I ask you an honest question?"

"Yes you may."

"Does---does it seem Larsa has been acting strange lately?"

Basch shakes his head. "No. Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

Rachel sighs. "Because…he got very angry last night. I've never seen him that angry before."

"Why did he become angered?"

"One of the cooks had no idea about Larsa's allergy to seafood, so he took out his anger on him and the butler. I did not see anything else after that, but I did hear a loud crash."

"Larsa snatched off the tablecloth."

"How did you know that?"

Basch smiles guiltily. "I…kind of heard about it…from a…source."

"A source?" Rachel smiles. "That 'source' wouldn't happen to be Mai, wouldn't it?"

He chuckles. "Yeah."

"I know whom I'm not telling a secret to."

Rachel felt butterflies in her stomach. She couldn't discern whether it was fear of Larsa seeing her talking to Basch or the tight kimono sash around her naturally petite waist. The red and gold kimono she is wearing is one of her favorite outfits. She already knew Larsa loved to see that on her----and so did Basch. She wondered how he looked so young, despite his forty-four years of age.

Basch offers his arm to her. "Shall we get something in our growling stomachs, my Lady?"

"Yes we shall," says Rachel upon sliding her arm through his. "And could you call me by my given name?"

"Of course, Rachel." The both of them walk down the hallway.

Standing in the shadows at the top of the winding staircase, Larsa watched their every move and heard every word. His gloved hands tightly gripped the banister. His hair over his left eye created a menacing shadow on his face. Larsa's full lips are in a cold, bitter scowl.

"Helen, could you come here for a moment?" Larsa asks without taking his eyes off of the floor below him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Could you ready my 'unique' armor for the party tonight? It is a very special occasion."

She looks at Larsa with big hazel orbs of surprise. Helen knows which armor he is referring to.

"Yes, sir." She quickly bows her head and walks away.

He continues to stare at the same spot Rachel and Basch were standing. He has a little something up his sleeve for the both of them.

"You just don't get it, my sweet," he says darkly. "You'll get it when I slit the judge's throat while you watch helplessly, tied to a chair, awaiting your turn."

Larsa is changing, slowly but surely, into his late brother.


	4. A Deadly Lesson to Teach

Part 4

A Deadly Lesson to Teach

A/N: This is a total rewrite of 'The Butterfly Room'. The first version was rather rushed, and sloppy, plus I thought it would be a good idea to push up 'The Butterfly Room' to part five instead. I hope you find this rewrite a lot better. Enjoy!

Larsa is in one of his usual pissy moods. He snapped at his servants, he snapped at Basch, he even snapped at Mai, Rachel's head servant and closest friend. Mai made the awful mistake of snapping back at Larsa, calling him a narcissistic, self-absorbed bastard.

Everyone knew not to mouth off to Larsa. Everyone: butlers, maids, servants, guards, even Basch knew to keep his mouth shut when Larsa was in a bad mood, which seemed like everyday. Mouthing off meant being fired, being beaten until you piss blood, or death. Death, usually gruesome, is one of Larsa's sick penalties.

Mai is about to find that out the hard way.

--------------

Meanwhile, three of Larsa's servants help him dress in a replica of Vayne's armor. Unknown to everyone, he is planning Mai's death. He wants it to be quick, yet painful. That is his way of being generous.

No one tells Larsa he is a narcissistic, self-absorbed bastard. No one! And that impudent bitch is about to get what she deserves.

Come to think of it, Larsa has never cared for Mai in the first place. He has always thought of her as whiny, needy, and especially clingy to Rachel.

One of his servants, Adrian, dared to question Larsa about his armor.

"Sir, what made you want to look like your late brother on this fine evening?"

Larsa glares daggers at Adrian, instantly intimidating him.

"Is it any of your business, servant?" He asks Adrian in a belittling tone of voice.

Adrian shakes his head 'no.'

"Um…no sir, it is not."

"Do you know I have the authority to make it so you will never again find employment?"

Adrian stares at the floor. Larsa's words make him feel very small. "Yes sir. I am fully aware."

"Then do not question me. Do I make myself entirely clear?" Larsa says through clenched teeth.

He nods his head 'yes'.

"Leave my sight!" Larsa says through clenched teeth. Adrian quickly bows and hurriedly leaves the bedroom.

Larsa smiles, suddenly in a pleasant mood. "He is a dolt, is he not?"

The remaining two servants nod their heads in agreement. Erich, another servant, puts the final touches on Larsa's armor.

"All done, my Lord," He says. "Now, all you need are your gloves and—"

"Hold on to them for me, Erich. Better yet, just leave them in here. The both of you are excused."

Erich and the other servant bow and leave.

Larsa steps off of the pedestal and goes to his dresser drawer. He opens the top drawer and takes the newly sharpened dagger out from its hiding place. He then takes the dagger and looks at it. He tests the dagger's sharpness by scraping his thumb on the blade.

"Perfect," Larsa says darkly. He smiles and leaves the bedroom to search for Mai.

-------------

Larsa is about to give up when he literally bumps into Mai on the stairs. He is holding the dagger behind his back with his left hand.

"Oh! I'm so sorry my Lord! I—I didn't mean to bump into you! I wasn't paying attention----"

He puts a finger to his lips. "There will be no need for apologies, darling Mai. Come with me."

Larsa forcefully grabs Mai's upper arm and rushes her upstairs.

"Sir! You're…hurting me!"

"I am not hurting you…yet." A depraved smile forms on Larsa's lips. He places the tip of the dagger's blade on the small of Mai's back. She now knows there something is terribly wrong with him.

Larsa gets to an empty guest room, which is only down the hall from his own room. He opens one of the double doors and pushes her inside.

Mai stares at Larsa, her dark brown eyes full of fear and confusion. She had no clue why he is doing this in the first place. Is this one of his cruel fear tactics she has heard so much about? The sound of Larsa locking the double doors gives her a feeling of fright.

"Sit down," he says demandingly. Mai takes a seat in a nearby plush white velvet chair, which is conveniently in the middle of the guest room's floor. Larsa turns around and stares at Mai, his steel gray eyes emotionless. A satire of a grin spoils his handsome face.

"You…are one _annoying_ pest. Do you agree?"

Mai is silent and trembling in fear. Tears fall down her bronzed face.

"Are those tears I see? Cease your weeping this instant."

She tries to stop crying, but the chilling feeling of sheer terror will not allow it. Mai's tears further aggravate Larsa, causing him to lose his patience and raise his voice.

"I SAID STOP CRYING!"

Larsa grabs her hair. The pain makes her let out a terrified whimper. He traces her jugular vein with the tip of the blade, creating a visible welt on her neck.

"Hmm…what shall I do next?" Larsa says with a wicked smile. "Shall I decapitate you, or shall I slit your throat from ear to ear? But first, I must restrain you."

He grabs Mai's ponytail, painfully jerking her head back. "I do not trust you, and I never will. You have always been a thorn in my side."

Larsa lets go of Mai's ponytail and goes to a linen closet. Shuffling through numerous cotton pillowcases and sheets, he finds the perfect restraint: a silk sheet. He rips the silk sheet with the dagger, creating thick ribbons.

"Now, I must keep you from screaming. May the Gods have mercy on your soul if you give me away," Larsa says calmly. "I have a reputation to defend, unlike you."

With that, Larsa forcefully places the longest strip of silk fabric around her mouth, purposely tightening it. Mai winces in pain. Larsa places his lips on Mai's right ear.

"I noticed you winced, Mai. Did I harm you? Did I cause some sort of pain?" With that, Larsa ties Mai's hands behind her back, tightening the silk strip around her wrists. He does the same with her ankles, securely tying them to the legs of the chair, restraining her very well.

Larsa stands up and grabs Mai's hair, touching his full lips to her ear once more. "I'm going to gain pleasure from this, perchance a little too much."

He grabs the dagger from off of the floor, tightly gripping its ruby handle. Larsa grips Mai's shoulder and plunges the blade into her stomach and buries it to the handle. Blood pours from the sides of her mouth, staining her face as well as the collar of her dress and the makeshift gag.

"I see the look of agony on your face. Isn't it excellent?" Larsa hisses. He takes the blade out of Mai's abdomen and stabs her once more, this time under her navel. Her blood stains the dagger's handle and Larsa's hand. "Isn't this fun?"

Mai tries to move, violently squirming in the once-white velvet chair, stained a dark brown from her blood. Larsa tilts his head to one side while observing his work.

"I think we need to put the final touches on my…work of art." He raises an eyebrow and smiles brightly, revealing perfect white teeth. Upon taking the dagger's blade out of Mai's abdomen, Larsa walks behind her, grabbing her hair and tilting her head back so he may look into her eyes. Her eyes, wide and full of fear stare deep into Larsa's eyes, gray and inert. Mai felt sorry for the young emperor due to the fact he hasn't a soul. He's a shell of a person, a tangible ghost.

She closes her eyes, bracing herself for the worst.

"Farewell Mai. Enjoy your eternal rest."

Mai doesn't feel any pain as Larsa severely slices her throat from ear to ear. Blood spatters onto his face and stains the light-colored parts of his armor, including his white wyrmskin collar.

He releases her hair, letting her near-decapitated head fall limply forward. Larsa raises an eyebrow and goes to the guest room's bathroom as if he did nothing at all. He turns the sink's water on full blast, using the stopper to fill the sink. As it fills with water Larsa searches for a clean washcloth. Finding one he places it into the filled sink.

Larsa turns the off the water, and saturates the washcloth. He wipes his face and hands, staining the once-white cloth a light crimson. He uses the cloth to wipe the dagger's blade clean.

He takes out the rubber stopper, draining the scarlet water. Using the same cloth, Larsa wipes the sink clean, removing any evidence of his horrid work. He stashes the blood-stained washcloth under the sink by stuffing it between the drainpipe and the wall.

Larsa leaves the guest room without so much as taking one quick glance at Mai, whose body is barely cool. He locks the door from the outside and checks to see if anyone has saw him leave. Luckily, no one has.

He arrives at his bedroom and opens the door. Before he steps inside, he checks to see if Rachel's there. She isn't. Larsa replaces the dagger into its sheath and back into its hiding place. He finds a writing pad and a pen to leave a note for Rachel:

_Wear something beautiful and meet me in _

_The Butterfly Room._

_---Larsa_

Larsa tears the piece of paper out of the writing pad and leaves it on their bed. He grabs his white wyrmskin gloves and puts them on.

His footfalls follow the sound of the double doors opening and closing.

Unknown to Larsa, while he was busy covering up his dirty work, he neglected to wipe off the blood on his armor's collar.


End file.
